


Background Music

by CrunchySalad



Category: BECK (Manga & Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Drama, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-31
Updated: 2012-03-31
Packaged: 2017-11-02 19:41:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/372667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrunchySalad/pseuds/CrunchySalad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eiji and Taira in two moments of time, pre- and post- fame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Background Music

Taira's stomach is full of linguine and seaweed when he falls through the door of Kumura Eiji's studio apartment. It's exactly what he expects: small, walls covered in band posters, guitar picks littering the floor. He knows that Eiji works about three different jobs to be able to get by (it's expensive, having two siblings and a father who doesn't know how to do anything but increase the family's debt), and for a second he feels bad that he didn't insist on going dutch on itameshi1 earlier. But just for a second. He's the one being courted, after all, and he didn't order anything expensive. He swings the bass on his back under his arm and starts to unzip it.

"Let's jam," he says.

Eiji's already pulling a guitar off its stand.

It doesn't take long for Taira to realize that Eiji's good. Better than Taira had expected, and his expectations were already high from what he'd seen out of Eiji before. Eiji plays with a scowl of concentration on his face. Eyebrows knitted up just slightly as his fingers work across the strings. Not because it's hard for him to play, but because he's trying to pour out everything inside of him through those fingertips. Frustration and desire and hope, everything spilling out in chords and riffs, little pieces of Eiji's soul caught in near-perfect technique. It's a quality Taira quite likes in a musician. He thinks that maybe, possibly, this is what he's been looking for, but. . . then again, maybe not. It still feels incomplete, the space between them.

Somehow they work out an arrangement of The Awakening using just a bass and a guitar that doesn't suck. Actually, it feels pretty good, feel being the operative word. The bass line and accompanying guitar seem to thrum all the way down into their bones. Taira had always imagined the song as love letter and duel between bass and drums, that thin line between sex and violence, but when they play it like this it's something else entirely. It goes on for much longer than Dexter and Otis the Third had intended, degenerates into improv, and ends with two tired young men falling down onto a hard futon.

Not surprisingly, Taira's shirt is off. Sweat dampens his skin and he craves water and cigarettes. Eiji helps him with the latter, passing him a slim white stick already burning red at the end. When Taira puts it in his mouth he can taste garlic on it. Eventually they're laying side by side, skin sticking together where their arms meet, smoke trails intertwining above them. Their instruments carefully placed on the floor.

"You're not going to try to get Ryusuke?" Taira asks. He doesn't need to turn to see the scowl that will be on Eiji's face.

"I tried that. We just can't work together."

"That's too bad." They make for an interesting combo, on-stage, but Taira knows all too well the effect off-stage relationships can have on a band.

Then it's Eiji's turn to ask a question. "So what do you think?"

"A band's not just the two of us," Taira replies, realizing it only as he says it. "Get a good singer and I'll think about it."

Their cigarettes are glowing stubs when Taira feels the bed shift beside him.

"Taira-kun. I want you in my band."

Deft and callused fingers pull the stub out of Taira's hand. It's tossed somewhere, Taira doesn't know where, and Eiji appears in his field of vision. A hand moves to rest on his shoulder.

"I want _you_ ," Eiji says, all subtext and heated gaze.

Taira smiles, amused. He reaches a hand up to brush shaggy red hair away from Eiji's handsome face. It suits him, that hair color. He moves his hand down, brushes a thumb against Eiji's lips. Watches as those lips part, as his thumb sinks into the dark space between, as it meets the playful tip of a moist tongue. A very talented tongue, Taira remembers, if rumors are to be believed.

"I'm not going to join your band just because you suck my cock," Taira says.

Eiji smiles as Taira's thumb moves down his chin. "That's fine, because I'm not sucking your cock just because I want you in the band."

"As long as we're clear on that." Taira answers with a small smile of his own. His fingers drop from Eiji's face and he crosses his arms behind his head. "Carry on, then."

Lips and tongue start at his sternum and trace a slow, meandering path downward. As they make a thorough search of the planes of his chest, a hand moves to cup against his groin. Taira bites his lip and closes his eyes. He wasn't all that hard before, but all it takes is Eiji's body heat through his pants to stir him to life. Body heat and pressure, Taira notes, as that warm hand palms and massages his growing erection. And those lips. Those perfect, cock-sucking lips, leaving no trace of his skin unexplored. They're at his belly button now. They press a kiss there before a tongue delves inside; it almost tickles. Taira stifles a laugh and a hand unzips his pants. His cock is mostly hard now, and it bounces up as his pants and boxers are pulled down.

Eiji is, apparently, something of a tease. He brings his lips close but not close enough, only hot breath ghosting over Taira's cock. His stares up through half-lowered lashes. He runs a tongue, slowly, over his upper lip, just a glimmer of moist pink before it disappears again. Taira contemplates doing something to force that lovely mouth closer, but he's far too polite for that.

Eventually, Eiji's cheek presses against his cock and at least it's contact. A cheek, a shifting, then lips, in a kiss that would be chaste if it were on the cheek. More kisses press up and down the shaft of his cock and send shivers outward every time. Every now and then he feels a tongue. A short swipe, a little lick, just enough to hint at more. Eiji's mouth lathes attention on every inch of him before it presses one last kiss against the very tip.

And then it's time for the main show. Eiji runs his tongue over the underside of his cock, base to tip, before swallowing him whole. Taira watches his cock disappear between puffy lips and makes a passing note that Eiji looks good with his mouth full of dick. Eiji looks up again and their eyes stay connected as Eiji starts to bob his head up and down. He wants to watch this forever, Taira thinks, his dick disappearing over and over again into Eiji's mouth. He wants to feel this forever. The deft maneuverings of Eiji's tongue, the way the head of his cock brushes the roof of Eiji's mouth with each inward pulse.

He's going to nut, and he tugs on Eiji's hair to let him know. Eiji moves off. He keeps his mouth open, grips Taira's cock to point straight at it, and strokes. Taira's whole body shudders and sighs as it comes. Jets of milky white shoot out of him to land and pool on Eiji's waiting tongue, dribble out over his chin. And when Eiji has collected every spurt, he moves forward and wraps those lips around the head of Taira's cock, as if to suck out any drops that might remain inside of it.

Taira is limp, sated, and sleepy, but he reaches out.

"It's my turn no-"

"I already came," Eiji interrupts. His hand is between his legs, and when he draws it out it's sticky. He wipes it on the bedsheets.

Taira's thumb once again finds its way to Eiji's lips, this time to brush away a thin trickle of remaining semen. There's something about Eiji, Taira thinks, something more than good looks and mad guitar skills. Something that draws him toward the other man.

"You should sleep over," Eiji says, then adds enticement. "In the morning we can do this again."

Taira outright laughs at that. "Yeah. Okay."

Some time later, Taira goes to meet with Ryusuke and the new singer he found. Chiba. The three of them go to a tiny, cheap studio, one so small that it's hard to keep their elbows and instruments from banging into each other. They start by playing some rock favorites, and it sounds pretty good. They move from the Stones to the Pixies to The Dying Breed. When Chiba doesn't know the lyrics he just makes them up, and soon Taira and Ryusuke are making up their own melodies too.

Eventually Chiba's singing about pickled daikon and his trip to the laundry store that day and Taira and Ryusuke are just making random noise. And out of all that horrible, horrible sound, there are still snippets of things that sound pretty damned good. More than that, it sounds new and different. Taira laughs and doesn't know why he's laughing, but everyone else is laughing too so it must be okay. And there's this feeling all around them, like they're on the edge of a precipice, about to jump. And maybe they'll end up a mess of blood and guts at the end, but by God, the free fall is going to be amazing. This is the feeling he wants, Taira thinks. This is what he's been searching for.

 _Sorry, Eiji,_ Taira thinks. _I won't be able to join you after all._

* * *

He stands in the alley way behind a familiar hole-in-the-wall. Around the corner there's a huge line stretching around the block, despite the fact that the club is old and dirty and holds at most one hundred people. It smells like piss and it's cold. He's tried to leave several times already, but he can't seem to move past the bent and twisted trashcan near the door.

 _What the hell am I doing,_ Eiji wonders, feeling lower than low. After years of looking down on them, years of being threatened by them, years of being jealous of them, why has he come to this show? It was supposed to be a secret show, but somehow the secret got out. Eiji's name isn't enough to get him in anywhere anymore, but he still has money, and contemplates using it to gain admittance. But then he remembers that he doesn't want to go in. He takes several steps away, stops, and takes several steps back. There's no reason, he thinks, hands clenched into fists at his side, that he would want to see this show. He has the sudden urge to punch the wall.

"Eiji?"

Eiji looks up. The heavy metal back door is open, a rectangle of light in the dark, dim alley. Standing there, propping it open with an arm and a leg, is Taira. Taira smiles at him.

"Hey," Taira says. He nods toward the club. "Come inside and watch the show."

Eiji stands to the side of the stage, out of view from the audience, along with some of the crew and production people. It makes him cry to hear how good they are, but it's more from bitterness than from being moved. Why couldn't it have been him? Why couldn't he make music like this, music that was moving the world?

When the show is done Eiji expects the worst, because the worst is what he's seen in this business. He expects taunts about sucking Ran's cock to stay at the top. Taunts about being a has-been without leaving even the tiniest of marks on the world outside Japan. Instead, Ryusuke shakes his hand. Koyuki gives him a nervous smile. Chiba and Saku nod at him before continuing on their way. In a way, it almost makes it worse.

"Come on," Taira says, his hand on Eiji's arm. "Let's go."

"You don't have an after-party to go to?" Eiji asks.

"I'm not a big after-party type of guy."

They walk to Eiji's car, and Eiji is almost embarrassed when he pulls out the key. The Porsche symbol is almost a taunt. The price tag of his musical integrity, of his hopes and dreams. He stands there staring at the key for just a moment too long, because Taira is taking them from him.

"Always wanted to drive a car like this," Taira says with a smile, and somehow it breaks the tension.

Eiji isn't sure that Taira even has a license, but he doesn't particularly care. "Where to?"

"Your place," Taira says, no hesitation. "I want to see what kind of fancy penthouse you hole yourself up in."

Taira pulls away from the curb and presses down on the accelerator so hard that Eiji's head is knocked back against his seat. The wind whips their hair into unattractive frenzies and Eiji has to shout to give directions. Eventually, traffic forces Taira to slow to reasonable speeds.

"I thought about you a lot," Taira says. Everything about him is so casual when he says it, from the soft, smooth tone he uses to his body language, one arm draped outside the window. The smoky red hue of the cigarette between his fingers is reflected in the side mirror. "I wondered how you were doing, what you were up to. Besides what I heard through the grapevine, of course."

"We went in different directions. We were in different bands." And at the time he had felt betrayed, despite the fact that there was no actual betrayal. He's the one that had wanted Taira. It wasn't fair that Ryusuke had gotten him.

"You still could have called."

"I didn't see you picking up the phone, either."

Whatever. It was just a one-night stand, after all. Never mind that it had taken Eiji a stress-filled week to work up the guts to initiate it. Never mind that, if things had gone as planned, it wouldn't have been just a one-night stand. They ride the rest of the way without saying anything of substance, the silence broken only by Eiji's directions.

When they get to Eiji's apartment (a penthouse on the top floor, wall-to-ceiling windows, everything decorated in sleek and modern white), they barely make it a few steps before Eiji reaches out for and falls into Taira. Lips meet with almost feverish intensity; the hunger of starving men might not compare. There's a scramble to pull and rip clothing off even as they kiss. They end up on the bed in a tangle of limbs and nude body parts, Eiji's hand hitting his stereo system awake in the process, a mellow American rock tune coming out of its speakers.

And their cocks are rubbing together as their lips and teeth clash. Eiji has a consuming need to feel every inch of the other man. His fingers move over shoulder and spine, hips and ass, ribs and chest. He spreads his legs open and Taira ruts against him. He feels Taira's hardness against his thigh, against his own answering erection. They thrust together as his lips travel over lips and jaw, kissing and sucking and tasting. He's almost feverish as he pulls away.

"Do you want to fuck me?" Eiji asks. He hopes the answer is a yes. He hopes that Taira's into anal and that he's not a total bottom, because Taira's dick inside of him is something Eiji has wanted for a long time.

Taira looks at him, for a moment, as cool as he ever is. "Okay."

Eiji grabs the lube and condoms from the nightstand drawer. They spill out of his hand onto the mattress, and soon he's throwing his head back as fingers move and twist inside of him. Taira's _good_ at this, Eiji realizes, some vague form of jealousy flaring in his chest. It's only fingers fucking him, but they're _Taira's_ fingers, and somehow that makes all the difference. It helps that those fingers are hitting the right spot time and time again.

It's not long before he's slick and relaxed. There are three fingers moving in and out of him with ease now, but they pull out. They're quickly replaced with something thicker, something warmer, something that makes Eiji's breath catch as it fills him up. He feels his body open as Taira slides into him, and nothing feels better than the knowledge that this is Taira's dick that's fucking him.

When Taira is fully seated he falls forward, elbows and forearms on the bed on either side of Eiji's face. Taira's forehead rests against his forehead. They kiss and Eiji just enjoys the feeling of being so full of Taira's cock. Eventually, Taira starts to move, short, shallow thrusts that keep him deep inside of Eiji. As time goes on they get longer, harder, until Taira's pulling almost his entire cock out with each thrust before slamming back in. The bed is creaking. The headboard is slamming against the wall. The music playing in the background is increasingly overshadowed by guttural noises and the wet slaps of flesh against flesh.

This is Eiji's favorite way of getting fucked. Just slammed into over and over again, pounded into the mattress, until his hole is puffy and raw. He reaches a hand in between their bodies and finds his cock, painfully hard and dripping pre-cum all over his stomach. He starts to pull and jerk. When he orgasms he feels in throughout his entire body; his entire being seems to convulse and shoot, jet after jet of thick, white semen forced out each time Taira's cock slams into him. It makes a mess out of both their stomachs. Eiji almost wants to cry, it feels so good. Taira's still fucking him, but he can't concentrate on it anymore. He can barely stay conscious.

Afterward Eiji ends up on his side and facing the window, the bright lights of Roppongi spread out all around him. He can feel Taira's body heat against his back and Taira's hand brushing shaggy hair back from his face.

"I'm sorry for not staying in touch," Taira says.

"It couldn't be helped." And it really couldn't, not when Eiji had decided that Ryusuke was the enemy.

"I'm sorry to hear about your girlfriend."

"The relationship was just for show."

"I'm sorry about your band."

"We were a crap band, anyway." Top of the charts in Japan for years and no one outside their small island nation even gave a shit. And why would they, Eiji wonders, bitterness welling up in his heart. They were just some crappy Japanese "rock" band, where rock was defined by derivative beats and gimmicky costumes. What else would the world do but ignore them? "And just when I finally accepted the fact that I was shit, that I was just some shit Japanese guitarist in a shit Japanese band and there was no way in hell the world would ever even give us a chance, you guys come along like international renown is so damned easy to get."

"It wasn't easy, Eiji," Taira says. "You of all people should know that."

You're the one who made sure of it, were the unspoken words, you and Ran. Eiji shakes his head, eyes stinging with everything he wants and can never have and the knowledge that it's his own damned fault.

"I was wrong," he says. He thinks more than he speaks, mouth giving form to words he doesn't even realize he has inside of him. His voice gets softer and shakier the longer he speaks. "I thought I had it all, but I didn't have anything. What was the point of the fame and the money when I couldn't even play the music I wanted to? In the end the only thing I'm leaving behind is watered down rock-pop shit. There were so many times I laughed at you guys, struggling and getting nowhere while I was at the top, but at least you were able to make music that you love. And now I can't even play anymore. I mean, technically, I can, and, technically, I'm damn good. But there's something missing, something that won't come out of me no matter how hard I try. And I realize it's been missing a long time, and now I'm afraid I'll never get it back."

An arm wraps around him, from underneath his own arm to up around his chest. "Don't talk like it's over. Not everyone gets everything they want in their twenties; most don't get it their entire lives. You can start over."

He wonders.

Taira's arms wrap tighter still around him. In the background, Josh Homme sings about losing a feeling that he couldn't give away. Eiji moves away from Taira's warmth, sits on the edge of his bed, and looks over his shoulder with a smile.

"Want to jam?" he asks.

Taira answers with a smile of his own. "Sure."

* * *

1 Japanese-Italian food.


End file.
